The Queen of Hearts
by Anxious Owl
Summary: Sam/Dylan - A series of snapshots during Dylan's life, pre-Holby and present.
1. The Queen of Hearts

I will get an update for 'Under Duress' up very soon, but this couldn't wait.

A little one-shot from Dylan's perspective.

Hope you enjoy.

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><p><span>The Queen of Hearts<span>

He stirred gently, not wanting to wake and dislodge himself from the rather comfortable surroundings. He was just the right amount of tired. Not too shattered and not too restless. Content. The temperature was also favourable this morning. The heating wasn't on, but the warmth from the sunlight glowing behind the curtains and the insulation from the blankets was just enough. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so relaxed.

He really should be getting up... now. Okay... now. Now he'll get up. After several failed attempts to rouse himself he decided that he would abandon that particular task for the time being.

Instead he focussed on what had happened the night before, and consequently, the entire day. He could recollect flowers. Lots of simple white flowers, with a few purply ones thrown in for good measure. From a particularly thoughtful relative...? No. It had been a very busy day too. But he hadn't minded. It had all been worth it. A lot of smiling people, more so than usual for him, including many of his colleagues. They'd all had a good day. Great even. No, definitely absolutely spectacular.

The stretch of time between last night and the morning he was currently enjoying had been pretty good too.

He smiled weakly, trying to stretch his arms out in front of him, but meeting something tender and warm.

It groaned.

"Watch it, Grumpy."

Samantha rolled over slowly to face him, stretching her own slim arms above herself before folding her hands beneath her cheek on the pillow.

They simply looked at each other for a few moments.

"Wow, no snarky comeback. Somebody's in a good mood."

He smirked.

"I don't think I know of many men who 'snark' at their wife the morning after their wedding."

"Yeah, but then again, this is youwe're talking about." She slipped her arms around his neck and let them rest there loosely, "The veritable _king _of snarkiness."

"Then that makes you the Queen of snarkiness, doesn't it? Somebody's not on the ball this morning."

"And Dylan Keogh has returned. I was getting worried."

"Hey."

He caught her attention. She frowned very slightly, confused.

"That's _my_ job."

She smiled and turned over again, letting her back settle against his chest and his arms slide around her.

He smiled too, a proper one, and let his face bask in her soft dark blonde hair.

What he had done to deserve her, he would never know.

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><p>A little fluffy, I know, but I wanted to shine a happier light on our favourite couple for once.<p>

It takes a minute to read, but merely a moment to review.

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	2. A Little Birdie Told Me

Hello there. I enjoyed writing the first little story so much that I have decided to continue!

This is set before Story #1.

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><p><span>A Little Birdie Told Me…<span>

It was ten fifteen. Therefore, it was also his break. Not that he ever got a break, just short snatches of time when nobody was bleeding or arresting or choking or in one quite nasty case, oozing. It was just long enough for said doctor to have a breather. He had been reading a particularly interesting article on the risks involved with cardiomyoplasty at his desk, and had lifted a more-than-warm mug of coffee to his lips when he heard a level voice speak suddenly by his side.

"Enjoying that?"

He jumped out of his skin: "Jesus Christ!"

Miriam walked round to the front of his desk with a triumphant smile, "I'm flattered, but no."

Dylan narrowed his eyes and frowned when a drop of coffee dripped from the bottom of his mug onto the cover sheet of the article. He dabbed at it half-heartedly, "Trust me, I meant nothing of the sort. What do you want?"

"Is that any way to talk to the woman who dragged you through medical school?" Miriam scolded playfully, "Anyway, you haven't answered my question."

"If I say yes you'll then try to achieve the opposite. If I say no, you'll make fun of me. I can't win either way with you."

He sipped at his coffee as she seated herself. He frowned again; she wasn't going to leave so soon, it appeared. She picked up a paperweight in the shape of a dolphin (belonging to another medic on the ward, obviously) and turned it over in her hands whilst questioning him again: "I'd have thought you'd be in a good mood nowadays…"

She was purposefully enticing his curiosity, he realised. He decided to tread carefully.

"...And why, pray tell, would that be?"

"A little birdie told me that you're quite close to a certain lady friend," she grinned and drew her eyes back up to him from the paperweight.

"I can assure you that nothing of the sort has occurred," he ducked his head down to study the article intently. He tried to continue reading. _The area from which the healthy muscular tissue is taken is more prone to damage due to reduced-_

"_-_I've seen it with my own eyes, Dylan, don't try to lie to me. And I'm upset that you didn't feel that you could tell me about this yourself."

"Tell you about what?"

She gave a 'hmmph', and leant forward slightly.

"I have noticed, as have a few others, that you seem rather 'comfortable' around Dr. Nicholls."

"... Absolutely ridiculous," he muttered – but he couldn't hide the blush creeping up his neck.

Miriam noticed and smiled yet another triumphant smile. "So it's true!"

His head shot up, "Nothing's true! All I do is talk to her, and that's only because _someone,_" he glared at her sharply, "recommended me as a mentor, even though it is a clear fact that I'm the least suited person in this hospital for such a job."

"But you don't deny she is a good doctor?"

"Of course not. If she weren't up to scratch I'd have cleaned my hands of her months ago."

"... And her medical skills are the only aspects of her personality you admire?"

He looked at her.

"Yes. Other than that, she is undoubtedly an extremely boring individual. Now please leave, your presence is disruptive to the mental wellbeing of my patients and everyone within a mile of the hospital."

With that, he straightened the pages of the article and held them in front of his face to finally finish reading them – and to hide the still present blush.

Miriam, unfazed, simply rose and made to leave, but threw a comment over her shoulder and relished his groan of annoyance: "Alright Dylan, but be sure that you make a move soon. I'd hate to see you all heartbroken."

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><p>I can so see Miriam irritating the hell out of Dylan about Sam, and had to portray this.<p>

BTW: Cardiomyoplasty is a procedure which involves taking muscle from another part of the body and attaching it around a weak heart to increase its pumping ability – just in case anyone was interested. I thought it was appropriate, as it was mentioned early on that Dylan had a background in cardiology.

Please review!

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	3. You Can't Choose Your Family

So glad you guys liked the second story. A big thanks to ficmouse, Baibe and the four public reviewers!

The BBC owns Casualty. *Sigh* However, I own the character Amelia.

Hope you enjoy Story #3...

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><p><span>You Can't Choose Your Family<span>

She rolled her eyes when she heard the door open and Dylan shuffle through before closing it behind himself. There was the familiar thud-thud of his boots landing on the mat by the door. He entered the living room where his sister was sitting on the sofa, legs brought up underneath her and a book lying open in her lap. He tilted his head. It was a murder mystery – again. Give him a good medical journal any day.

"Dylan, you were _hours_!"

Describing his little sister as melodramatic was a colossal understatement, he decided.

"I was only," he glanced down at his watch, "half an hour. And I phoned and told you that I would be late."

He wandered into the kitchen to fix himself a mug of coffee. He deposited a level teaspoon of coffee and two heaped teaspoons of sugar into a mug. He flicked the switch on the kettle.

"Yes, but I'll be back to Uni in a week, so just maybe my big brother will actually want to spend some time with me?" She called from her position on the sofa.

He ignored her comment and poured boiled water into the mug. His sister appeared behind him.

"Any calls?" he queried.

"No," she huffed, walking to the fruit bowl.

She turned around with an apple in hand, "... wait; there was one – from the Psych ward?"

He frowned. "What did they want?"

The last time he'd worked on Psych was in his training, years ago.

"To admit you," she replied nonchalantly as she bit into the apple and turned back to the living room.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Amelia Keogh was one temperamental little thing.

"So you're in a strop because I was late – and not even by that much." He followed her and leant on the side of the sofa as she repositioned herself.

"Of course not," she said, "Even though you were probably spending it drooling over Sam."

And that was two cups of coffee spoilt in a day.

"I was not. Besides, what have you got against Sam anyway? You two got on fine the other day when you met."

"It's not her - it's you _and _her."

She sighed internally; underneath their acerbic exteriors, she and Dylan loved each other to bits. Amelia liked Sam, really, she did. But she wasn't stupid. She could see the way Dylan looked at her, with more attention than he would give 'just a friend'. She'd never seen him fall for anyone before, and she was afraid of how it would pan out. She didn't want to see her big brother upset, as much as he would try to hide it.

"There is no 'me and her'."

"I bet you wish there was," she smirked.

"Right, this is enough-," he paused for a moment.

"You."

She blinked at him.

"It was _you_! You told Miriam that I like Sam!"

"I have no idea what you mean," she buried her head in her novel.

He gave a short sarcastic laugh. "I should've known."

"Yes, you should have," she laughed, "And you should also have used that big brain of yours to think before you profess your love for your mentee."

"But I didn't mea-" he protested.

Then he sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead with his palm, giving up.

She laughed some more, matching blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

If she wasn't his sister...

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><p>Not too sure about this one, but I hope you guys enjoyed - till next time,<p>

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	4. Behind Every Great Man

I bet we're all gasping to know just how our favourite duo came to be. So here is my little imagining of how it all went down.

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><p><span>Behind Every Great Man...<span>

She didn't look too cheery today. Miriam's brow was pulled together in a frown. But it wasn't necessarily an angry you're-in-for-it frown. Dylan sensed slight sadness and disappointment in her eyes. That alone made him bristle. She had arranged this little meeting to 'discuss a very important matter that had come to her attention'. He couldn't deny that he had a small inkling as to what exactly that matter was.

He wasn't the most... _approachable _of the medical staff in this particular establishment. Of course, he knew how to check for symptoms, take a history, dole out treatment – but talking to the Joe and Janet Bloggs that walked through the door was not a task he relished. Or excelled at.

Miriam knew this. "You know why we're here."

"To waste time." He answered in a monotone.

Miriam leant back in her chair and exhaled. "Dylan. Do you remember the first day we met?"

He sighed inwardly. "No."

She glanced at him. "We spent a grand total of two and a half minutes making polite introductory small talk when you told me to get a life because I couldn't help but stick my nose into yours." She smiled at the recollection. He was the more... interesting of her mentees, she had to admit.

He met her eyes and drawled sarcastically, "And yet we're here now, four years later."

Her smile faltered. "Yes," she looked at him more directly now, "You can't keep doing this."

"What might that be?"

"Not seeing the _people_. There is so much more to medicine than the science, as ludicrous as it sounds."

"I implied nothing of the sort."

"Really?"

He just stared at her. She leant forwards now.

"You sent a young woman home in tears."

His gaze flickered ever so slightly, betraying no emotion - but she knew she had hit home.

"She had an easily treatable and unfortunately common infection stemming from having a little tipsy night out. It was plainly obvious she was no party animal; it was a one-off. She was ashamed of what she had done. Yet you found it necessary to belittle her further, telling her 'to watch whose bed she fell into next time'?"

His lips settled into a thin line.

She pressed hers together and tried a softer approach. "I know what a good doctor you are. You know what a good doctor you are. But that isn't enough sometimes."

His gaze quickly shifted to hers, his face revealing his current feelings momentarily. Surprise, confusion – worry.

"One of the key values that underpins everything we do is something you've been struggling with for a while. Empathy. Stepping back and seeing the damaged and often vulnerable individual the illness overshadows."

His jaw tightened. "So what are you saying? That I'm not fit for this? That I should drop out before I make a fool of myself?"

She held her hands up. "That's not what I'm saying at all. Just that we need to nip this in it's over developed bud."

He frowned with suspicion. "And just what do you have in mind?"

She gave the first grin of the meeting. "A partner of sorts. To help you open up. Relate."

He sighed inwardly, "And when should I expect to receive this partner? I've gathered that you're not going to take 'no' for an answer."

"Right you are, as per usual," she clasped her hands together, "A reliable friend of mine knows of someone who could use looking after, but with a heart of gold to win over any man."

"Who?"

She smiled in approval and reached over to her computer monitor to pluck off a fluorescent yellow post-it. She proffered it to him. He eyed it apprehensively, and took hold of it. It only took a moment to scan the paper before his head shot up with a priceless look of pure disbelief splashed across his face.

"You truly expect me to _look after_ this?"

"Her, Dylan," she tossed back, steely, but not without her trademark triumphant grin.

"Her, it, whatever. The point is it's not happening."

"Do you want to be empathetic or not?"

"Yes," he groaned slowly.

_Like a moaning toddler, _she noted in amusement.

"So you'll do it? Brilliant. This is going to work out, Dylan, just you wait," she smiled, "And _she's _got a name you know."

"I don't care." He bit back flippantly, "In fact, I'm calling her something else."

His mouth curled up slightly. _Deviously, _she thought, now worrying slightly. He rose from the seat and made for the door. He turned it without opening and turned to face her one last time.

"Dylan..."

"When will I be meeting my new partner in crime?"

"Today, actually. The time and place is on the note. And if you're going to 'pick a name' then be nice. She doesn't deserve your particular brand of humour. "

"Of course." He smirked at her. "Dervla it is, then."

With that, he left the room. He was halfway down the corridor when Miriam finally got around her desk and out of the door to yell:

"Dylan Keogh! You are _NOT _naming that dog after _my_ _mother_!"

He continued on round the corner and down the steps, the smirk not quite gone.

Somehow, he predicted a beautiful friendship.

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><p>Behind every great man, apparently there is a greater woman. But for Dylan there is his ever faithful canine companion.<p>

What's that? Not what you expected?

Good. That's what I was aiming for. Hope I brought even the barest of smiles to your face today.

Happy Easter.

Anxious Owl (^,^)


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